


something in the air (is giving me bad ideas)

by gayclubanthem



Series: do you wanna be my sidekick? [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, basically jenny wanted narry and like four months later here we are, greasemonkey!niall, harry zayn and louis are in a band together, just a short little cute fest, there are a bunch of british people in LA it's great
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-05 06:32:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4169547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayclubanthem/pseuds/gayclubanthem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>harry buys a bike, breaks it, and falls in <i>like</i> like with a pretty irish mechanic.  in that order.</p>
            </blockquote>





	something in the air (is giving me bad ideas)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AlwaysCourage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlwaysCourage/gifts).



> for jenny bc she's been waiting for this for so long sorry dude
> 
> i plan on making this, like, a verse, but for now i've just got this part and another one that's supposed to be part three that i wrote ages ago before i even finished this one?
> 
> this isn't beta'd and i'll admit i only read through it really quickly before posting so any mistakes are my own and can be blamed on my habit of writing at two in the morning.
> 
> anyway i hope you like it, babes. 
> 
> title from the song Sidekick by Walk the Moon.

Harry loves his new motorcycle. It's sleek and black and fast with it's elongated handlebars and leather seat and loud but gentle purr rumbling through Harry's bones. Honestly, it's perfect, everything he had wanted. His pocket feels a bit lighter and his heart has swollen with pride as he carefully pulls out of the sales lot. He hopes there's a pap or two out so he can properly show off his new purchase.

While he had been signing papers, Louis had texted him with a predictable _you better name it after me or we're kicking you out of the band .x_ so Harry decides as he's breaking for a red light to name it Zayn just to piss him off. Zayn seems more fitting anyway with the effortless manner in which the motorcycle exudes a sense of bad ass mystery.

Harry reconsiders when, somehow, Zayn Jr starts to sputter and jerk. Pulling into the nearest lot, Harry sends his new bike a confused frown. Maybe it _should_ be named after Louis. He hadn't even made it two blocks away from the dealership.

He manages to at least park before the motorcycle all but dies beneath him. Immediately, he pulls out his phone.

"'Lo?" Zayn mumbles. It's noon, but with the band just starting their break, there's a strong chance Harry woke him.

"Um. I have a problem," Harry starts, poking at the speedometer and wondering if he should even be surprised. Zayn lets out a long suffering sigh.

"What do you mean by problem?" he questions, which okay, no need to sound so enthusiastic. Zayn is supposed to be the helpful friend, Harry thinks to himself.

"You know how I was going to get that bike today?" and Zayn makes an attempt at an affirmative grunt. Harry's pretty sure it makes him sound like a caveman. "Well. I got it, and it's like, really great. Super beautiful and it rides great and I named it after you but..."

For a moment, the only sound Harry hears is static and the ambient traffic of downtown LA. Finally, Zayn wooshes out another sigh.

"Harry," he begins, voice low. "Did you break your brand new motorcycle less than twelve hours after buying it?"

"Okay, first of all, it was used. Second of all, uh. Maybe. I dunno what I did, it just sort of gave up?"

"Fuck, _Harry_ ," Zayn sounds exasperated. "I owe Louis two hundred quid you fucker. You couldn't have waited until tomorrow?"

Harry makes an affronted noise. His bandmates are assholes.

"Hey, at least I made it out of the dealership," Harry defends, totally not inwardly patting himself on the back because that means Grimmy owes him free drinks when he gets back to London. Honestly Harry's friends have too little faith.

Or maybe too much, if the way Zayn's grumbling now means anything.

"What are you even calling me for?" Zayn grumps, "There's gotta be, like, a mechanic at the dealership or something that can tell you what's wrong."

"I needed your friendly support, but you're kind of being a jerk," Harry says, and he hopes Zayn can hear his pout through the phone. "Who am I even supposed to call? I'm not cut out for this. Do you think I can sue the sales guy? He told me everything was ready to go."

"Don't sue the sales guy."

"Alright. So what do I do?"

"Where are you?"

Harry gives him the street name and the name of the building he's parked in front of, praying Zayn doesn't notice how close the address is to where Harry had bought the motorcycle less than twenty minutes ago. There's a sound of clacking on Zayn's end and Harry hopes that means he's got his laptop in front of him looking up the nearest mechanic. After a moment, Zayn hums.

"There's a garage, like, a block or two north on your side of the street. They've got good reviews and it's a small place so hopefully they can be discreet. I think the fans are still cooing over your nearly falling off the stage last month."

Harry resolutely does not blush. He does, however, take a second to glance around, hopeful that any paps got their pictures of Harry and his bike and have moved on.

"No more teasing, Lou's gonna have it in for me when we get lunch tomorrow. What's the place called anyway?"

Zayn pauses before snorting.

"Er... it's called "Big Payno's Auto Repair," he says, and Harry makes a face. "Says they can fix just about anything so it's worth a shot. It's owned by some guy called Liam Payne so ask for him if you can."

"Yeah, alright. Thanks, mate, I'll call you later," Harry says, ignoring Zayn when he mumbles "please don't" and hangs up. He takes his bike by the handlebars and makes his way to the garage. He sees a few fans stop in the street as he passes, eyebrows raised and expressions of indecision clear on their faces. Normally, he'd be much more inviting about taking pictures and chatting, but his wounded ego keeps his feet moving forward, offering nothing but a sheepish nod.

Big Payno's Auto Repair is marked only by a humble white sign with red lettering displaying the name. It's a small brick building with two off white garage doors facing the street. There's a neon open sign alight in the window next to the door so Harry walks the bike into one of the parking spots and puts the stand down. The bell chimes overhead when he opens the door and he walks into a room set up like an office. There are a few chairs off to the side and a desk on the other where a young man with wide shoulders and a jaw line that makes Harry a little jealous sits. The man glances up wearing a friendly smile.

"Hello! What can I help you with?" he greets with an unexpected English lit. Harry blinks back his shock and waves a bit awkwardly. 

"Uh, hi," he mumbles. He can see the pleasant surprise at his own accent in the man's face. "My, uh, motorcycle doesn't seem to be working. May I speak to Liam Payne?"

"That'd be me," the man, Liam, says, standing up and offering his hand for Harry to shake. 

"Oh good. Is there any chance you'd be able to take a look? I've only just bought it, so I'm not sure exactly what could be wrong," Harry explains. With a nod, Liam steps out from behind the desk.

"Absolutey, if you follow me, I'll introduce you to our motorcycle guy. He'll be very excited to meet you, if I'm honest."

Harry very nearly trips over his own feet. "Um, sorry, so you know who I am?" and he feels like such a knob for asking, but he really doesn't need any extra publicity involving his motorcycle giving up. Liam seems nice enough, but what about the mechanic? With a sheepish laugh, Liam shrugs and opens the door leading to the garage.

"I do, yeah. We won't say anything, though, not if you don't want us to. 'M surprised you made it here without a horde of girls trailing behind you," he admits. Harry lets his shoulders relax. Trust thy fellow Englishman or whatever. With a small nod, Harry lets Liam lead him into the garage.

There's a truly terrifyingly large man huddled under the hood of a beat up Jeep Wrangler who looks up when they enter, but his face holds a fond smile when he sees Liam. He somehow manages to squeeze out from under the hood, hip leaning against the front bumper.

"Leemo, please tell the Irish one to get off his phone when he's not on break. I don't care if Mr. Britpop Styles was seen in the area half an hour ago, Mrs. Walter's Pontiac needs a new starter and it's not going to fix itself," he complains, and okay is everyone who works here British? 

"Actually, Paul," Liam starts, and he gestures to Harry, "I'm going to need Ni for a moment to look at Mr. Styles' bike."

Paul's gaze lands on Harry and Harry fights the urge to shrink under his intimidating gaze. A moment of awkward silence passes between them before Paul's face lights up and he cracks a shit eating grin.

"You're shitting me. Harry bloody Styles."

"Um," Harry says. "Yeah, I suppose so."

Paul lets out a tremendous laugh, his massive shoulders shaking with it. Just as Harry's about to ask Liam what's going on, Paul turns back to the car and kicks at a pair of converse clad feet Harry hadn't noticed before.

"Get yer lazy Irish arse out of there, you've got a visitor!" he yells, and in the next moment he crouches down, pulling on one skinny ankle until a young man is rolled out from under the car, a look of confusion on his face while he pulls out the earbuds he had in. 

"Excuse me very much, but there is important business happening and I'd appreciate it if you'd leave me alone for five goddamn minutes, thanks," the Irish boy grumbles, tucking his phone away in his pocket and sitting up. It's then that he notices Harry and Liam. "Um."

Paul is back to laughing, the sound booming throughout the otherwise silent garage. Niall has his gaze locked on Harry, which, okay so Harry's pretty used to that reaction, though not usually from attractive Irish mechanics. He offers a wave before folding his hands behind his back and looking to Liam to break the tension.

"Niall, you're the best with motorcycles so I'm gonna have you take a look at Harry's, yeah? Get to it, I'm sure Mr. Styles has places to be."

"I'm actually not--" Harry starts to say, but Niall is already nodding and wiping his hands on a stained white cloth hanging from the front pocket of his jeans. 

"Absolutely, it would be my absolute pleasure, sir," he's saying, which only makes Paul laugh harder. The man is nearly in tears, his cheeks flushed as he leans hard into the car next to him. 

"Hear that, Leemo? Sir. He actually used the term 'sir' to describe someone. Alert the media, better call his mum, she'll be so proud."

Liam manages to look vaguely amused, but he only spares them an eye roll before he turns to Harry and claps a hand on his shoulder.

"Your bike is in good hands, I promise," he offers before going back into the main building. Paul's laughter finally dies down, but he's still wearing a massive grin that suggests he's going to give Niall shit for days, but Niall doesn't look bothered. He's standing with his hands wrapped around the cloth in his pocket still, playing with the fabric.

"I have to ask," Niall starts and Harry does his very best not to wince in preparation of whatever his question might be. He's had experience with this sort of thing, fans asking if he's actually dating so and so or if Louis' arse is as beautiful up close as in the pictures. "Is that the motorcycle you like... just bought? Like an hour ago?"

Niall looks sheepish, but Harry can't stop the smile that spreads his cheeks. 

"It is," he says. "Out of all the people I worried would notice I definitely didn't expect it to be the mechanic."

"I might be a fan," Niall admits, his shy grin shifting into something more wry. "Good jams and all."

"Am I your favorite?" Harry can't help but ask, eyebrows quirking. Niall lets out a loud laugh, and suddenly he's all sunshine, bright rays of good humor and happiness.

"Where is she then?" 

Harry leads Niall outside to where Zayn 2.0 is parked. Niall whistles low, giving the bike a quick once over before getting a closer look. Harry stands awkwardly off the the side, watching Niall while he looks under a few nooks and crannies before turning back to Harry with his hands on his hips.

"Is it, by any chance at all, out of gas."

It's a dry question and Niall's got a look on his face like he's trying really hard not to smile. Harry frowns, tries to remember looking at the gauge which had... seemed full? Drifting closer, Harry glances at the gauge, which... ok so maybe it's backwards from the car he normally drives, the meter at an angle instead of the half circle he's used to. And okay, maybe the empty sign is on the side Harry usually associates with a full tank of gas. And anyway, why would the dealership let the tank get so low in the first place? 

So, sure. Yeah, there's a very high possibility. 

"Um," Harry starts. "In my defense..."

He doesn't get to finish. Niall is barking out the most ridiculous and wonderful laugh he's ever heard. Harry barely has time to feel embarrassed or offended, his own lips twitching up. Niall is infectious. 

"You're a dolt," Niall says, "A bloody handsome dolt. Come on, I've got a gallon tucked away somewhere. Get you back on the road in no time."

Suddenly, Harry realizes he doesn't want to go. He's only just gotten there, and in a garage full of foreigners like himself. Before Harry can think better of it, he grabs Niall's wrist, keeping him from getting too far back inside. Niall blushes a bright red, glancing down at Harry's hand like he might faint or start laughing again, he's not sure which yet.

"Hey, uh," yes, a solid beginning, Harry thinks to himself, "Maybe we should, like, exchange numbers or something. That's probably weird, like, I've never said that to someone I don't really know, but like. Could I take you on a date or... shit, you might not even, okay sorry. I'm starting over. We should go out sometime. Platonically. Or not. I dunno."

Harry snaps his mouth shut, face tingling and hot as Niall stares at him dumbly. Finally, Niall nods, eyes gleaming in an amused way that sends a fizzy feeling through Harry's spine.

"Sure. To the numbers part. Not sure about a date quite yet, though. I'll be honest I'm a little disappointed you're not as tall as I thought you'd be."

Harry smiles back, let's go of his arm long enough to pull out his phone and shove it at Niall. 

"No date, check. But I'm not giving up," Harry warns. "I'm told I'm very good at pursuing my dreams."

"And your dream is to take me, little ol' Niall Horan of Mullingar turned L.A., on a date?"

Harry shrugs, cheekily peeking over his shoulder at his new bike that is, thankfully, just fine. He's going to rub that in Zayn and Louis' faces for ages. At least Niall had found it funny, maybe even a little endearing? Harry hoped. With a small smile, Harry turns back to Niall who has a mildly incredulous expression on his face.

"Let's just say I don't believe in happy coincidences."

**Author's Note:**

> [visit me](http://gayclubanthem.tumblr.com) :)


End file.
